


Stitches

by Vermilion_Blues



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Knitting, idk i just like knitting and i feel like virgil would too, kinda suicide? virgil jumps into the subconscious and fades away, this is based off of another fic but i can’t remember what the other fic is called, what is a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 13:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18522577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Blues/pseuds/Vermilion_Blues
Summary: Knitting calmed him. The stitches, the clicking, the secrecy, it all helped him calm down.The subconscious was almost as comforting. It felt like being wrapped in hundreds of wool scarfs, suffocating him, warming him, chocking him.But... something felt off. A tickle- a tug- a-They screamed.





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired from another fic where virgil knitted and wanted to give his gifts to the sides but i can’t find it now :(  
> also this is more of a character study than anything.

It was…. calming, to him, Virgil realized. Being the physical embodiment of someone’s anxiety, Virgil wasn’t exactly used to the feeling of being calm. Of course, he had good days, but he always had that constant buzz of anxiety burning under his skin, bubbling and threatening to turn a good day bad, as it had many days in the past.

Until he started knitting.

He didn’t know what it was. Was it the soft click of his metal needles hitting each other? Was it the methodical way he looped the yarn around the needle and pulled it through? Was it how, even though he knew he it was bad, he was making something? What about this activity made him so relaxed and content?

Was it because no one else knew about it?

That was the only anxiety that came from his hobby, that the others would one day find out. The anxiety tickled at his nose when he stopped knitting, and hid his supplies, but he knew that the others never entered his room, preferring to knock and speak to him in a place where they wouldn’t be affected by him. They didn’t want to be around him or his powers for too long, anyways, so it was easy for him to hide all of his hobbies away. That included the dusty violin that he hadn’t played since he was hidden deep with the dark sides, now afraid of the light sides hearing him, and his purple knitting needles with his various dark colored yarns. 

He never was as good at summoning things as Creativity, only ever being able to create dark colored yarns, even if his heart yearned to create all colors of the rainbow. Just another reason he was fucked up, he supposed.

Enough of that thinking, he was knitting. This was calm time. This was a time for him to fade away from Anxiety, and to just become Virgil for once. Fade away from his persona, away from his black eye shadow and black hoodie, away from the aggressive nicknames and the side glares from Princey and Logic, and the fake pity of Morality. Maybe that was why it was so calming for him to knit, because it was finally a time where he wasn’t himself and he could be something else, which was all he had ever intended on being. 

He finished off the top of the new scarf he had been working on, something fast and easy to knit but still somewhat time consuming, and he smiled at the neat stitch work he had been able to create. He almost wished that he could give it to someone, but- no. Morality would never accept something so dark, Princey would never take anything from him, and Logic would never wear something as illogical as a scarf in the mindscape. He could practically hear their voices in his head as he imagined handing it to them.

“Oh, kiddo, it’s wonderful, but isn’t it a bit…  _ dark _ ?”

“No, I don’t want your  _ awful _ gift, it’s probably been cursed with something horrid.”

“The Mindscape is a consistent warm temperature, which would make it  _ illogical _ for anyone to wear or knit a scarf.”

Dark, awful, illogical. That was Anxiety. The scarf joined his other knitted projects in the box under his bed, and his knitting needles and yarn returned to the box hidden in his closet. Now that he had finished knitting, he felt the darkness creep back in, and he sighed as he allowed his eyeshadow to reappear on his face. He had come to hate the powdery feeling of it being applied, but it only ever left his face when he was knitting, and he would allow the slight unpleasantness of the eyeshadow applying to continue, as long as he had those brief moments of calm while knitting. 

He felt a tug on his chest, a sign of him being summoned by Thomas, and sighed softly. There goes his calm, he thought, as he sunk down to face the noise of the others and whatever problem was happening today.

Maybe he would knit some more, later, as a way to calm down from this next video.   
  


 

He never got the chance to. Not even knitting, his main method of calming himself, could dull the pain that he felt, tugging in his chest, pulling on his heart, and threatening to split him apart.

The video had been practically the same as always, he had been treated as a villain, even  _ drawn _ as one, proving to him that that’s all he would ever be, and that’s all that they’ll ever see in him. He knew the fans were asking for a “redemption arc” for him, but he knew it was impossible.

No one truly wants the enemy they’ve been trying to defeat to join their side, fairytales be damned. All that stories had ever done were hurt him, anyways.

This had finally solidified his plan in his brain. He was never going to go back, he couldn’t hurt Thomas anymore. His job was to help Thomas survive and be safe, and he realized in that moment that he was going against his job. Him being gone would be better for Thomas. He was unneeded. 

He ducked down into the subconscious, and started walking as far away as he could. He could feel the sigh of relief that left the mindscape as he got farther and farther into the dark, suffocating subconscious, taking his anxiety and influence with him. Suddenly his foot hit air, and he was floating away into the darkness, all air being sucked out from around him. He struggled to breathe, although he knew logically that he didn’t need to, (ha, logically, Logic would be proud if he had actually liked Anxiety,) and felt his eyes slowly close. He felt as if he was being slowly ripped apart, fading into the darkness around him as his fingers started fading out into the abyss, and as his feet started to lose feeling. 

He didn’t know how long he had been there, arms and legs completely numb and fading, his eyes still closed and his brain slowing down, before he felt a tickle in the back of his brain. 

_ Go away _ , he thought,  _ Let me float in peace. _

But the tickle grew worse and worse until it had grown into a full itch, forcing his eyed to wrench open as he finally focused on what was happening, and why he was feeling this.

It took him longer than he would admit, trying to regain enough focus and strength to see what was happening. 

Instead of the warm, fading feeling he had become accustomed to in the subconscious, he felt like his entire body had been dropped into ice water. He was being summoned, by Logic of all people. 

_ No _ , he thought again, rejecting it.  _ Leave me alone.  _

It happened again, in his chest, a yank that told him he was trying to be summoned by Creativity, but he rejected it again. 

_No_ , he thought, more urgently. _Go_ **_away_**.

Then he felt a tug on his hand, a warm enveloping feeling that covered his lower arm and tried to pull him along. Morality. He rejected it once more, trying to force himself back into the suffocating peace he had found in the subconscious. 

_ Let me leave, please. It’s better this way. _

He felt the ice leave his body as no more pulls occurred, allowing him to sink back into the warmth. Another tickle appeared in his heart, and he let out a silent groan before checking on what it was. 

His body returned to him fully as he shut up with a gasp, his brain in overdrive as he ducked down. 

They were in his room. 

What were they doing in his room?

“What are you doing in my room?”

Of course, they scream.


End file.
